


A Little Closer to Goodbye

by Callmebobbie



Series: Everytime You Lie [2]
Category: Red Eye (2005)
Genre: Action, F/M, Follow on from one-shot, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Language, Non-Con references, Original Characters - Freeform, Past Non-Con, Road Trip, Romance, Sequel, Sexual Content, Smut, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-08
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:01:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 17,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26356879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Callmebobbie/pseuds/Callmebobbie
Summary: Sequel to alternate ending one-shot 'Everytime You Lie'“You have nothing to fear from me, Lise. I’m not going to hurt you.”“You will,” she said lightly. “That’s who you are.”Jackson made good on his promise to steal Lisa.
Relationships: Lisa Reisert/Jackson Rippner
Series: Everytime You Lie [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1960624
Comments: 14
Kudos: 39





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I've finally made good on writing a follow up! Hoorah! 
> 
> Several years ago, I wrote a one-shot alternate movie ending for Red Eye that I was pretty darn proud of. Originally I was just going to leave it at that, but after a few comments from people asking about a possible follow on, I thought, "Why the hell not?" And started thinking about places where it could go. 
> 
> Life, alas, got in the way and it was only a few weeks ago that I reread 'Everytime You Lie' and then started reading through the chapters already written and got to the end of what I had and was dying to know what happened next. Then realised that I had written the stupid thing so I better get onto it lol!
> 
> So here it is! PLEASE MAKE SURE TO READ EVERYTIME YOU LIE FIRST otherwise this won't make sense at all!

**PROLOGUE**

If Officer Marty Hernandez were a superstitious man, the steady tap of a pair of men’s dress shoes echoing down the long hall of the Miami Police Station early that morning would have sent a shiver down his spine.

As it was, Officer Hernandez was jaded by a dozen plus years on the force and had yet to be frightened by anyone who had graced these white rendered walls.

Looking up from his computer as the tapping grew louder, then stopped with a small squeak from one of the visitors, he took in the two men with an experienced eye.

And promptly grew cold.

Despite the FBI identification they flashed before tucking them simultaneously into their inside suit jacket pockets, Hernandez knew that these men were killers. He’s seen the look before.

“Officer Hernandez?” The taller of the two questioned in a deep voice. He was tall, well over the officer’s own six foot one inch frame. Dark, almost black hair fell in soft waves to his broad shoulders, framing a narrow face and pale complexion. He would have had Hernandez’s teenage daughter in raptures were it not for the cold look in his dark eyes.

He cleared his throat and rose from his chair. “Yeah, I’m Hernandez.” He was proud that his voice conveyed none of his disquiet.

The tall man pushed a large hand towards him. Hernandez grasped it and gave a quick squeeze of greeting. “I’m Special Agent Dallas and this is Special Agent Denver. We’ve been sent down from Washington in regards to the Reisert-Keefe case.”

Hernandez’s eyes flicked to the other man. Dallas and Denver. That doesn't sound suspicious at all. ‘Denver’ held out a calloused hand and he grasped it, shaking as quickly as possible. The other man was perhaps in his early forties, slightly older than Dallas, his piercing blue eyes standing out against his olive-toned skin and cropped dark blonde hair. He said nothing.

Tearing himself from the other man’s gaze, Hernandez turned to Dallas again. “I suppose you’re here to see Ms Reisert, then?”

The tall man flashed a brief smile, all sharp, white teeth. “You suppose right, Officer Hernandez.”

Feeling himself break into a cold sweat, the police officer jerked his head in the direction of the cell block. “This way, Agents.”

The sound of their dress shoes behind him was like ice water down his spine.

Hernandez swallowed hard and asked, “I thought Special Agent Chen was the person tied to the case? She’s been the one questioning Ms Reisert-“

“We’re following up a particular lead in the case, Officer Hernandez,” Dallas replied smoothly. “Something that may be connected to a missing persons.”

Hernandez made an interested sound, and winced when it came out a bit high.

As soon as they approached the first lot of security doors, Hernandez sensed something was off. “Hey, Dave?” He called to the officer on duty.

“Yup?” Officer David McInnes peered around the corner from where his desk was set up and took in the trio with widening eyes. “What’s up, Marty?” He asked carefully.

“These are Special Agents Dallas and Denver, down from Washington,” Hernandez pointed his thumb over his shoulder at them. “Here to see Lisa Reisert.”

McInnes paled considerably. He may be young, but the man wasn’t stupid. He knew these men were dangerous. “Lisa- Lisa Reisert was transferred. L-last night.”

Hernandez could feel the sudden tension rolling off the men behind him and fought not to turn around. “When was that approved?” He barked, but his eyes pleaded with McInnes for support.

“She was gone when I came in for my shift at five, Marty.” The young officer scrambled for his desk, picking up a clipboard. “Here.” He thrust the board through the bars towards him. Hernandez barely touched it before Denver snatched it from him and scanned the pages with his sharp eyes. Looking up at Dallas, they shared a look, then the silent man pushed the old plastic board into Hernandez’s chest.

“Thank you for your cooperation,” Denver ground out in a voice that sounded like whisky over gravel.

As one, the pair turned and walked away from the two officers, leaving them stunned and hoping never to hear the sound of men’s dress shoes on linoleum ever again.


	2. Chapter One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: All my knowledge of FBI and U.S. police procedure comes from the X-Files and other various American police dramas!

**Chapter One**

The fight finally drained out of Lisa when the sun began to peak over the horizon. Jackson stopped asking her to move into the front seat with him after the third time, when she released an impressive amount of swear words for a people-pleasing former hotel manager and hunkered down in the backseat, covered in the far-too-large jacket he procured for himself earlier that day.

He could see her eyes drooping and the nod of her head in time with his driving, and his lips twitched into a small smile. He shouldn't have bothered. Lisa Reisert was poised to take the fall for the failed attempt on Senator Keefe’s life and Jackson was still happily free to move onto his next job.

But he really _wasn't_ happily free to move on.

Barely twenty four hours ago, Jackson had finally tasted little Lisa Reisert, and he couldn't get enough. It wasn't just the fact that she was an attractive woman. He had been with attractive women before. She was also intelligent and sharp and so _good_. And so incredibly vulnerable, Jackson just wanted to protect her from everything.

Except from himself.

Well. He’s never claimed to be _that_ selfless.

* * *

The muffled slam of a door woke Lisa from her uncomfortable position in the backseat. Jackson’s head popped back into the open window and she jumped, still wary of the man.

“Good morning, Lise,” he said, far too gently. “We need to fill up. Did you want anything to eat? Bathroom break?”

Lisa looked out the dusty window and noted they had stopped at a small gas station. Pushing the warm jacket off her arms, she replied in a voice husky from sleep and yelling at her kidnapper/rescuer, “I could do with a bathroom.”

She turned to look at Jackson again. His smile had dropped, and he was just _staring_ at her with his unnervingly blue eyes. Her gaze flicked down to his full lips as he touched them with his tongue. Her heart thumped hard and he blinked, the moment broken.

He twisted his mouth into a small smile. “Sure. Come on.” He motioned for her to get out. “Wait,” he said suddenly. Lisa froze as his baseball cap landed in her lap. “Hair under this. Head down. Avoid eye contact.”

“Right,” she nodded, both bemused and terrified. Couldn't forget she was a fugitive, after all.

Tucking the last auburn strands under the cap, Lisa pulled herself from the car and stretched. The standard-issue jail outfit she was put into after she was arrested was partially covered by a long black t-shirt and a pair of sneakers that were a little too big. She shuffled past Jackson, who was leaning casually on the side of the car, filling up the tank, and glanced at him quickly.

He was staring again. This time with a little smirk on his lips.

Ignoring him in favour of her urgent bodily needs, she looked around for the sign to the bathroom, pushing the station’s door open and activating a buzzer. The attendant at the counter looked up briefly, then waved her on as she indicated she was heading to the bathrooms at the back.

After taking care of her most pressing needs, Lisa narrowed her eyes at her reflection in the age-spotted mirror over the sink. Grimacing, she pushed the cap a bit higher on her head and turned on the tap, pumping liquid soap into her hands. Washing both her face and the back of her neck thoroughly, she looked around for a paper towel and sighed in annoyance when the dispenser turned out to be empty. She awkwardly patted her face dry with her t-shirt instead, and braced herself to walk past the attendant again.

Jackson was browsing the shelves as she walked back through the store. He looked at her expectantly and she shrugged, too tired to think about what the hell happened to her life. “Get me a coffee,” she muttered in his general direction, and rushed out to the car.

Jackson was surprised to see her in the front seat, considering her choice words to him earlier on the subject. Lisa huffed and crossed her arms defensively. “Don’t look too much into this. I’m not stupid, Jack,” she rolled her eyes. “You were home free. You didn't have to come get me.” He silently handed her her coffee. “Thanks,” she clutched the warm paper cup close, “I don’t know why you bothered, but thanks anyway.”

He slid into the drivers’ side and lowered a bag of snacks onto the now vacant back seat. “You really don’t know why?” He murmured.

She fiddled with the warm cup and shrugged one shoulder.

“I think you do,” he teased with a smile that should have been shy, but came off as coy, instead. “I told you I would steal you, Lise.”

Lisa’s heart picked up with his carefully chosen words. She really didn’t know this man, a part from the fact that less than two days ago, he sat next to her on a flight to Miami and proceeded to meticulously tear her carefully planned, routined, and most of all, _safe_ life apart.

She was just a job to him then.

He had wanted her to be afraid of him, and she was. But why had he come back? Was she still a job, or had his work blurred into something else?

Was she going to be safe with this man?

“And what does it mean for me now, Jackson,” she asked softly, “Now that you’ve _stolen_ me?”

The assassin next to her placed his own coffee in the cup holder between them and turned to her, shifting so he faced her as much as possible in the confined cabin of the car.

“Lisa,” he began, “You don’t owe me anything. Nothing.” He shook his head slightly when she looked up in surprise, his longish hair brushing his pale blue shirt collar. He chucked wryly and ducked his head in a manner far too boyish to belong to a killer. “I watched you before the flight. For weeks. I thought I knew you because I knew your favourite choice of cocktail.” He smiled self-deprecatingly at her. She didn’t smile back. How much of her life had he seen, how much had been revealed, for him to just be able to waltz in and take control like he did?

Lisa hated the feeling of powerlessness his words left her with. This whole screwed up relationship had been one of the imbalance of power. He had it most of the time, she occasionally one-upped him, but what he _knew_ about her frightened her intensely.

Jackson must have sensed the thoughts rushing through her head, because his hand twitched, as if to reach out and reassure her. He stopped himself before he could act, when Lisa tensed in her seat.

“What I mean is, Lisa,” he murmured, “Is that I thought _what_ I knew about you was all I _needed_ to know.” His bright blue eyes held her hostage. “What I realised, during that flight, was that I knew nothing. I didn’t know you at all.” His voice was low and soothing, almost seductive, and Lisa couldn't help but react to what he was implying.

She cleared her throat. “Is this how you usually charm a girl?”

The silence was heavy for a long moment, then Jackson suddenly barked a laugh. He started the engine and pulled his seatbelt across his torso in one fluid movement. Putting the car in gear, he turned to her and smirked.

“Why, is it working?” he asked with a wink.

* * *

Special Agent Maria Chen of the Federal Bureau of Investigation was having a weird week.

The whole Reisert-Keefe case was a fiasco. Neither she nor her partner Ben Gordon could find a thing in Lisa Reisert’s background that would suddenly turn the hotel manager to a life of political assassinations. Sitting with the attractive, successful, yet quiet living young woman during hours of interrogation at the Miami Police Station had only cemented the thought in the agent’s mind. She was quite sure that the woman had very little, if nothing, to do with the plot.

Which brought her to her next problem. Jackson Rippner.

She snorted at the name. What sort of ridiculous pseudonym was that, anyway? Footage from the airport in Texas confirmed Reisert’s claims that there was a man on the same flight as her going by the description she gave police. Other eye witnesses, including a flight assistant, backed up the story of a tallish - but not too tall - lean, and soft-spoken young man in his late 20s or early 30s sitting next to Lisa Reisert that night.

But there was no Jackson Rippner on that Fresh Air flight. Or _any_ flight that evening. The seat next to Reisert was empty, according to the flight manifest.

It was about noon when Agent Chen arrived back at the Miami Police Station. She had just finished taking the statement of a young woman who Reisert had claimed had rescued her from the airport, when she had escaped this ‘Rippner’, she had dropped her partner off at the docks, where he was following a lead on an unregistered boat searched the day of the hotel bombing. Clutching her slightly tattered notebook to her chest, Chen took two steps up at a time.

Something the young woman - Sarah - had said, was bothering her. And Chen hoped it wasn't making her biased in favouring the young hotel manager.

_“She just looked so scared,” Sarah had insisted. “I like to think of myself as good at reading people - I’m a social worker and I don’t fool easy.” The blonde woman threw a concerned look at the agent. “She wasn’t making it up. She was tired, bruised and_ scared _. And the guy that came after her-” She paused again, her eyes narrowing at the memory. “-he was bad news.” She shook her head. “I don’t know what else to tell you.”_

Chen was thinking that there were people involved in this plot that went way beyond anything she had encountered.

Working her way to the holding cells, she asked the officer on duty to bring Lisa Reisert out so she could escort her to one of the interrogation rooms. Following the officer down, Chen’s insides slowly began to freeze. The door to Reisert’s cell was open.

“Where is she?” Chen demanded.

The older man rushed back to his desk and checked the cell records. “She’s been transferred, ma’am,” he said apologetically. “Late last night.”

“What?” She breathed disbelievingly. “Who? Who ordered the transfer?”

The officer swung the mouse around and clicked several times, swinging the screen towards the agent as she leaned over his desk. “Assistant Director Jim Houston,” she read off the screen, gritting her teeth.

“You weren’t the only one to ask after her today,” the officer kept reading the logs. “Special Agents- ah, Special Agents Dallas and Denver were in at the crack of dawn this morning looking to talk to her.”

Her eyes widened as she took in the small note on the screen. What in the _hell-_

She could feel an angry flush move up the back of her neck as she pulled out her phone. Dragging up her superior’s number, she marched up the corridor, heading towards the main offices. She didn’t even notice the police move out her her path as she impatiently waited for him to answer.

“Mack!” She bit into the phone when he answered. “Why was my suspect transferred by A.D. Jim Houston?”

Two minutes later, she was standing on the front steps of the station, with her suspect transferred by a non-existent Assistant Director, already being pursued by two men _definitely_ not working for the Bureau, and wondering what the hell she had gotten herself into with this case.


	3. Chapter Two

**Chapter 2**

Lisa sat uncomfortably in the front passenger seat as she watched an assassin get them a room for the night. She sighed irritably at herself. This wasn’t her. Just letting someone else call all the shots.

When she still dated she would often get rubbed up the wrong way by some boyfriend’s presumption that what he said, went. Sure, she had no idea what she was doing in this particular situation, but she didn't even know this man.

Bet his name wasn’t even Jackson.

Taking a deep breath, she began to plan. She wasn’t stupid, she just wasn't in possession of all the facts needed to make an informed choice about the situation.

* * *

“I need to know what you’re planning, Jackson.”

Her soft voice, laced with steel, brought him up short. Dropping a large rucksack with clothing and toiletries that he threw together as he planned Lisa’s escape from the police station into the corner of the twin room, he turned to her. She was standing awkwardly in front of the bathroom door, arms folded across her chest. The body language said flight, but her eyes said fight.

“No you don’t, Lisa,” he dismissed her as casually as possible.

“Yes, I do,” she insisted through gritted teeth. “I don’t _know_ you, and I’m letting you drag me across the state to who-knows-where, to do who-the-hell-knows-what-“

“You could get to _know_ me,” he said, throwing a lascivious grin in her direction.

“Oh my gosh, would you stop that!” Lisa’s complexion mottled red and she threw her hands up in the air. “Stop flirting with me! It’s not going to happen, Jackson.”

“Never say never, little Lisa,” he teased her.

She growled in his direction and abruptly turned and locked herself in the bathroom. Jackson’s teasing smile dropped as he stared at the closed door.

How much more frightened of him would she be if she knew that he could take one look at the door separating them and calculate the exact force needed to kick it in? Or would the fact that they probably had some of his equally well-trained colleagues on their tail frighten her more?

They wouldn’t just stare at the door.

Easing his way back over to the rucksack, Jackson pulled out a small waterproof pouch and approached the bathroom door again with a soft knock. Lisa didn’t answer.

“Lise? Would you like a toothbrush?”

A few quiet seconds passed before the door cracked open, and Lisa’s delicate and tired features peered out at him. His heart clenched a little. “Yes, please,” she whispered.

Handing over the toiletries, he met her gaze. He dipped his head in slight apology, hoping to appear vulnerable. “I can’t tell you what I’m planning because I’m still not sure what to do.”

Her green eyes widened at his honest sounding answer, then she nodded slightly. “Thank you for telling me that, Jackson.” Closing the door again, he heard a tap go on.

Yes, he thought to himself. It’s much better that she doesn’t know what’s going on.

* * *

Lisa pulled the brim of Jackson’s cap further over her eyes as she passed the receptionist of the way out of the motel.

She hardly slept the night before. Jackson had taken the bed closest to the door and eased into a soundless sleep as soon as he had climbed under the covers. She had wanted to kick him awake out of spite, but resisted, since he _had_ reluctantly revealed he had no idea what he was doing either.

But after his confession, he barely spoke to her the rest of the night. He just offered her a prepackaged meal which he ate quietly on his own bed after his shower, stripped down to his underwear and a t-shirt (Lisa refused to acknowledge the heat that washed over her at the sight of his nonchalant partial nudity), rolled over and fell asleep.

She slid into the front seat with him and clicked her seatbelt on. Looking up, she saw Jackson gazing absently at her hands. Well, she thought he was looking at her hands. Folding her fingers primly on her lap, she asked, “So, where are we off to?”

Blinking those big blue eyes once, he flicked them to her. “Atlanta,” he replied smoothly. “Outside Atlanta,” he corrected himself, starting the engine. “We need better disguises.”

Lisa raised a brow as he back out of the parking spot and pulled onto the road. “Disguises?”

He quirked his mouth in her direction. “I want my hat back.”

She reluctantly smiled back. “Fair enough. I’m not much of a hat person.”

“Not much at all.”

“Hey!” She protested, laughing a little, and slapped him lightly on the arm. “That’s not nice!”

The car jerked slightly to the side, and Lisa sucked in a quick breath, hands snapping to her seatbelt. Jackson was staring at her again, as if she had just removed her sweater and demanded he sign her boobs.

“Sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean to distract you. I won’t touch you again.”

Jackson cleared his throat and turned back to the empty road. “It- it just took me by surprise, Lise.” Hang on, was he-

Was he _blushing_?

The faint pink colour creeping up his neck into his longish hair seemed to suggest so. Lisa turned to face the road as well. This was not happening. All thoughts suddenly centred on the heated kiss they shared at her Dad’s house and she could feel the heat climbing into her own cheeks.

Swearing at herself, she tightened her jaw and her hands, resting back in her lap.

“Sorry,” she said again, refusing to look at him.

This was _not_ happening.

* * *

There was a special level of hell for people who tampered with video evidence, Maria Chen was convinced. Despite never having any trouble with their CCTV recordings in the past, suddenly the footage of the arrival and departure of ‘Special Agents Denver and Dallas’ to the Miami Police Station was lost in the aether.

Ben Gordon sat next to her, chewing a pen. “These guys are _good_ , Chen,” he said, almost admiringly.

She scowled at him and began searching the security footage around the building. Nothing. She huffed. “Don’t sound so impressed, Gordon. I have a feeling they might be linked to the mysterious ‘Jackson Rippner’ who Reisert claimed pushed her into this.”

Gordon turned to her fully, swinging the office chair to face her. The fluorescent light above them in the dim room of the police station flickered briefly. “How do you know Reisert wasn’t just making shit up? I mean, blaming the entire plot on a guy who sat next to her on a plane. Really?”

“The guy is a ghost, Gordon. And she doesn't exactly have the background of a terrorist.”

The agent reluctantly nodded. “Yeah, there is that. But if it weren’t for some eyewitnesses, she could have made the whole ‘Rippner’ thing up. Just because she doesn’t have the background of a terrorist, doesn’t mean she hasn’t been indoctrinated into some radical cause.”

Maria leaned forward and stared at the frozen security footage. “There’s something else-“ she paused.

“Yeah?” Gordon also eased forward, eyes on his partner.

“Isn’t it a bit of a coincidence that all these names are cities?” She looked at him, brow furrowed. “Jackson, Houston, Denver, Dallas. All cities, and all connected to this one case.”

Gordon paused. “Traffic cameras.”

“What?”

“Check the traffic cameras. Surely there’s one that picked up these Denver and Dallas guys.” Maria began the search, clicking through the cameras littered through the area. “There!” Gordon pointed after several long hours of searching. “That’s gotta be them. Going by the descriptions of Hernandez and McInnes-“

She zoomed in the image and waited impatiently for the details to come through. “Yes!” There they were, sitting in the front seat of an unassuming black sedan. The older Denver was at the wheel, glaring at the traffic in front of him through his sunglasses, and the younger Dallas was sprawled elegantly in the passenger seat, head resting on his hand, which was propped up on the window sill by an elbow.

“Got you, you bastards,” Maria grinned viciously.

* * *

Lisa awkwardly caught the plastic bag Jackson tossed her as she sat in a cafe a few doors down from the Walmart he disappeared into earlier.

“Get creative, Lise,” he smirked, standing over her. Her own face gaped up at him in his reflective sunglasses. Snapping her mouth shut as she caught sight of her reflection, she pulled open the bag.

“Cardinal Midnight?” She asked, holding up the hair dye packaging. “Have a thing for redheads, Jack?”

“Better believe it, Red.”

She didn’t bother replying and just grunted at his cheeky answer. He could flirt all he wanted, but she knew better. After this morning’s road incident, he wasn't as unaffected by her as he tried to act.

She pushed through the items in the bag to reveal what else Jackson bought for her impromptu makeover as he pulled out a chair to sit in. There was some generic branded makeup, hairdressing scissors - she raised a brow at that. The average guy wouldn’t normally know the difference between an ordinary pair of scissors and the type they used in salons. But then again, this was Jackson she was thinking about. Lying at the bottom of the bag was a fashion magazine. Pulling it out, she leafed through a couple of pages.

“For ideas,” Jackson filled the silence, his voice unreadable.

Lisa paused and looked at him. “Thanks,” she said carefully. His tongue touched his lips briefly as they stared at each other, but he was the first to break eye contact. “I did a little bit of theatre in high school,” she murmured, looking back down into the bag at the cosmetics he bought. “I could never remember my lines, but the makeup side fascinated me for a while.” She held up some contouring pallets. “You can change your entire face with the right colours.”

Jackson was staring at her again, but this time, a faint smile appeared on his lips. “Well,” he said, pushing himself up from the aluminium cafe chair, “shall we get moving?”

“Absolutely. I’ve got places to be,” she replied airily, standing with him. Turning to the carpark, Jackson shifted his arm behind her, and she felt the barest of touches between her shoulder blades. She hid her slight shiver by ducking her hat-covered head and forging ahead.

“Hey Lise.” Jackson grabbed her arm fully, and she turned to him in surprise. He hadn’t touched her like that since her Dad’s house. His long fingers curled almost entirely around her upper arm. “Not that way.”

“What?”

“We have a new ride.” He slid his hand down her arm as if he were escorting her onto a dance floor. 

“When did this happen?” She asked suspiciously.

“I called in a favour,” he said, shrugging.

“A fav-” Lisa couldn't even finish her thought as Jackson arrived at a deep maroon coloured SUV and opened the door for her and walked around the other side. “What about our stuff?” She asked as she scrambled into the passenger seat.

“Already in the trunk.”

“Huh. Right.”

Was it just her, or did Jackson actually sound like he knew what he was doing? He claimed to be as lost as her, but arranging a new car doesn't exactly scream, ‘I don’t know what I’m doing.’ She shifted into the comfortable leather seat and pulled her seatbelt across. Well, he wasn’t exactly new to the world of illegal activities. Maybe he’s just doing what he knows to to get them out.

It still didn’t make her feel any better.


	4. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh. Finally, some action ;)
> 
> Some of my warnings come into play now! Violence and not nice language directed at a woman and PTSD from a past sexual assault. 

**Chapter 3**

Lisa could still feel the bile burning the back of her throat. Jackson sat in a furious silence next to her, a scowl marring his usually unreadable features as he clutched the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turned white.

Hypersensitive to any noice coming from the woman, he whipped his head towards her when she drew in her breath hard, almost a sob. No, actually a sob. Her small hands came up to cover her face and she screwed her eyes shut.

“Lise?” he questioned her in a low voice.

She shook her head in denial. “I’m f-fine,” she whispered, barely audible through her slender fingers. Jackson reached out and brushed his fingers lightly over her hair, hat long gone. “No,” she flinched away from him, jerking upright and pulling her hands away from her blood-splattered face. “Stop.” She gave a tiny groan. “I’m gonna be sick.”

He swiftly pulled over, and Lisa tumbled out. Hearing her heave onto the dirt by the car, Jackson rubbed his own face with long, blood stained fingers. He cursed softly. And at the sound of Lisa's soft weeping, he left the drivers seat, hoping she wouldn't fight him this time. 

**THREE HOURS EARLIER**

For goodness sake, Lisa thought in frustration as she tipped her chin up at her travel partner slash kidnapper slash assassin. He was, by all appearances, a full-grown adult. He could trust her when she said she needed money for _essentials._

The twinge in her lower belly that morning alerted her to the fact that despite the shambles her life was right now, life, and her period, marches on. In all the tiny details Jackson managed to cover when packing for their little trip, he forgot she was a woman. 

Well, at least forgot that she was a woman who no longer had access to the wonders of the pill. 

Dammit. 

"Just give me twenty bucks, please Jackson," she said, gritting her teeth. "I'll seriously be just in there." She pointed to the lone drug store in the tiny town they were passing through. 

He studied her silently, then _finally_ pulled out two twenties for her. Lisa snatched the notes out of his outstretched fingers. 

"Thank you," she sighed, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. "I won't be long." 

"Keep your hat down," he replied blandly. 

"Yes, I know," she bit out, pulling the cap down harder over her greasy feeling hair. Sleeping in the car overnight did not help her increasingly frustrated mood. She felt sticky all over, and couldn't wait till they stopped at a motel again. Crossing the reasonably busy street at a half run, Lisa stepped into the drug store with a bing coming from the door as she entered. 

Collecting what she needed, she stood with a basket at the register nearest the door, giving a slight smile to the young girl behind her before she ducked her head down again.

The door binged again as two men strolled in. 

One headed to the drug counter at the back while the other turned to the register Lisa was piling her items onto and levelled a hand gun at the store assistant’s head.

“Oh, shit,” Lisa gasped as she stumbled back, taking the young girl with her. A few other screams echoed around the store as the weapons were noticed by other customers.

“Language,” the man grinned, flashing a blackened tooth. He dumped an empty canvas bag onto the counter. “Now, let’s see you fill up this here bag, okay?” He cocked his gun and turned his unsettling smile onto the shocked assistant.

Wasting no time, the assistant opened her till and began dumping notes into the open bag. The thief then looked back at Lisa with a spark in his eye.

No, not at Lisa.

At the young girl, who was just behind her. She couldn't have been older then fourteen, with her dark hair styled into tiny braids that brushed her shoulders. Lisa’s stomach dropped as she saw the man look the girl up and down.

“Hey there, pretty girl,” he cooed, craning his neck to see around Lisa, who had spread her arms to keep the girl behind her. “Won’t you come out so I can see you?”

“Leave her alone,” Lisa snapped, terrified at the look in his eye.

He frowned at her disapprovingly. “You’re quite the rude bitch, ain’t ya?”

Lisa didn't answer, but instead shuffled the girl back a bit more. She heard a small whimper from behind her. “It’s okay, sweetie. They’ll just take their money and drugs andgo, won't they?”

He stared at Lisa, head tilted slightly. Pulling the now full bag from the counter without dropping his gaze, he then turned his gun on her. The young girl let out a short, sharp cry and clutched the back of Lisa’s jacket.

“Let the girl pass. Now,” he chirped, unsettling grin back in place.

Lisa was going to throw up. “No. You can’t have her,” she bit back, heart in her mouth.

No one should have to go through what she went through, especially someone who was still a child.

His cheerful expression dropped off his face and he took three sudden steps towards the two girls, gun aimed squarely at Lisa’s head and screamed, “I said, let her PASS, you fucking cunt!”

“No!” She screamed back and latched onto his gun hand with all her might. Swinging his arm away from the girl, her heart stopped when he squeezed the trigger, firing into a shelf of hair accessories. The girl shrieked and dove for cover in the opposite direction and scrambled behind the register.

Using her elbow, Lisa released one hand from the gun and drove it into his eye. His grip on the weapon loosened as he brought up a hand to cover his injured face and she twisted the gun out of his hands, turning it on him.

“Fucking _cunt_ ,” he bellowed. “You stupid, fuckin-”

He froze, a surprised look on his face. His hand dropped from his eye and his neck gaped open, spraying Lisa with a burst of hot blood. Some of the liquid splattered into her mouth, and she could taste the copper on her tongue.

The thief dropped like a stone, leaving a coldly furious Jackson standing behind him, KA-BAR knife stained with red.

She dropped the gun from her nerveless fingers, unable to utter a word at the slight in front of her.

“Pick up the gun,” Jackson commanded her quietly.

Lisa couldn't answer. There was a sound coming from the back of her throat that may have been a scream trying to get out, but it wasn't quite making it.

Jackson was now wiping the blood off the blade, using the dead man’s hoodie. His terrifying blue eyes snapped up to her’s. “Pick up the _fucking_ gun!”

She blinked and crouched, loosing her balance a little as she reached for the grip, and dragged it over.

“Come here,” his next command seemed just as incomprehensible as his first. “Come _here_. Oh, fuck it-” Jackson reached over the body and the pool of dark blood and snagged her upper arm and dragged her over it.

Finally, Lisa woke up. Flinching back from him, she gurgled in terror. “D-don’t. Don’t-” Her foot smacked against the dead man’s head, and his neck gaped open unbecomingly, with yet more blood spilling out onto the carpet from the new angle. Her breakfast rushed up from her stomach, burning the back of her throat.

Fighting against Jackson’s grip, he tightened his jaw and pulled her into his arms, crushing her to his chest, the blood from her arms smearing against his as he clamped down on her struggles. Fuck. The blood. That _smell-_

“Let me go!” She wailed. “Oh, _fuck-_ “

He just picked her up and lifted her off her feet.

_Blood. She can’t move. He’s too strong._

Panicking, she kicked her feet out and snapped her head back, losing her hat as she clipped Jackson’s ear.

“Stop moving,” he growled in her ear, and all she could think was carpark, van, hot, knife, pain, _blood._

_Stop moving, you little bitch._

“No, no, _no_ -“ she shrieked. Crushing her further in his parody of a bear hug, Jackson hauled her towards the door. She let out another broken wail as she saw the other thief. He was still alive, trying to keep his insides from escaping the deep gash Jackson left across his stomach.

“No…” Lisa moaned before her mind decided it enough was enough, and she fell limp, letting the assassin carry her to their car, which he must have moved closer. She wasn't really paying enough attention to figure it out. He dumped her in the passenger side, slammed the door and before she could blink again, she felt the car take off.

* * *

They pulled into a motel carpark and just sat, both staring through the windscreen.

Finally, Jackson pulled out a plastic packet of baby wipes. Lisa was still too far gone to even make a crack at the man for having a pack of the things on hand. He pulled out two and dropped them into her open palm.

“Clean yourself up a little, Lise,” he said, not ungently. “I’ll go find us a room.”

* * *

Jackson deliberately walked slowly back to the SUV, his hand clutched around their room key, and made his way around the back to pick up their bags from the trunk. Swinging them over one shoulder, he approached Lisa’s door. Before he reached the handle, it swung open, revealing a puffy-eyed, yet blood splatter free Lisa.

Hopping down, her black sneakers crunching the gravel beneath them, she took a deep breath and met his gaze, not shying away.

“Thank you, Jackson, for what you did back there,” she said in a husky monotone. “I apologise for panicking. I forgot where I was.”

Pressing his lips together, he nodded silently.

“And I had forgotten, for a moment, what you are.” She gave what he presumed was meant to be a smile. It needed work. Not even her dimples showed.

His throat tight at the sight of her, vulnerable and unprotected in her own mind. What he’d do to be able to wrap her up in his arms. Gently, not like at that fucking drug store. “And what is that, Lisa?”

She blinked her wide green eyes. “A killer.”

And just like that, she had shut down.

He gritted his teeth. He had just set them right back to where they started when they met on that stupid Fresh Air flight. “You have nothing to fear from me, Lise. I’m not going to hurt you.”

“You will,” she said lightly. He jerked his head in automatic denial. “That’s who you are.”

Then she plucked the room keys out of his hand and entered the motel without him.

* * *

“We’ve had a report of a bloody attempted robbery at a drug store in Tennessee,” Maria announced to Gordon, who was struggling to balance a carton of noodles and his case notes as he dumped them on their borrowed desk at the Miami Police Station.

“A ‘bloody robbery, guv’nor?’” Gordon replied in the worst British accent to ever grace the shores of the U.S.

Maria snorted. “Literally bloody, smartass. Two would-be thieves were sliced open by a white male of average height after which he dragged out a screaming woman.”

“You think that’s Reisert and this so-called Rippner?”

“You got any other leads, dear partner?” She raised an eyebrow at him.

“None at all,” he said, sweeping his hand at his scattered notes. “Go forth and find video feeds. I feel a road trip coming on.”


	5. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in posting! Our city is still in lockdown and my motivation is just meh at the moment lol. But I'm working on the second to last chapter and I'm SO CLOSE to finishing!!
> 
> We need some fluff after that last chapter, so here's some more Jackson and Lisa bonding ;P

**Chapter 4**

Jackson hesitated as he went to pull the bathroom door open to move back into their motel room. He felt a few drops of water drip from his newly cropped hair style onto his bare shoulders.

He still couldn’t understand why, of all people, little Lisa Reisert was the one to get under his skin. And he had no _fucking_ clue how to break open that shell she had hidden herself in, or even whether he should even be attempting to comfort her.

That scar across her breast had been playing on his mind ever since they left that drug store. She had been raped at some point, that much was obvious. Probably fairly recently. Held down by some guy with a knife and violated. He clenched his fists, the rage building inside him.

Despite his occupation and what he had been sent to do to Lisa, he had never physically violated anyone like that before. He twitched a little. As if violating their privacy and their safety and their very _lives_ were that much better.

She was right. He was a killer. The worst sort, the one that did not kill out of heightened emotions or spur of the moment or out of a panicked reaction, but one who murdered in cold blood. For money. No emotion attached.

He was no better than the bastard who ripped Lisa apart.

“Fuck,” he hissed, leaning on the still damp door with one fist.

Okay. He stood up straight again. Fine. She was right, but they were still in a considerable amount of danger and on the run. Just stop trying to romance her and just get the job done. Shut down those pesky little feelings, like he’s done all his life, and get her and himself to safety.

Easy.

Right.

He pulled open the door to the most erotic sight he’s ever been witness to.

Lisa was slightly bent over at the waist, her nearly dry hair swinging across one pale cheek as she blow dried her own new hairstyle. It was now a deep red, cropped so that her new bangs brushed her eyebrows and softened her delicate features even more.

Jackson swallowed. This is what he gets for never being in a proper relationship before. The mere sight of a beautiful woman following a domestic beauty routine had him instantly hard.

Dropping his dirty clothes he was holding over his indiscretion below the waist, he cleared his throat. “You hungry?”

Standing and switching off the noisy machine, she turned to him. Shit, she was beautiful. Jackson stood there looking like a stunned mullet.

“What was that?” She asked.

“Food?” He croaked.

She gave a small smile. Dimples this time. “You should get something. I’m not very hungry.”

“You should eat.”

“Yeah,” she said, turning away. “I know.”

He moved a little closer as she picked up a comb and picked at her new parting. “You- do you want to talk about it, Lise?”

Her short laugh was hard. “Really, Jack?” Green eyes flicked over him briefly, and she turned back to the mirror.

Fuck. What was he _doing_? “I mean it,” he whispered as he moved a little closer.

She stiffened, as if on cue, at his closeness. “Could you please put a shirt on?” Her gaze dropped to his chest again, and he saw her draw in her bottom lip, biting down slowly on it. He tasted his own lip in response.

She swore loudly, then, throwing the comb on a side table, she turned and reached up with both hands and dragged his face down to hers.

This kiss was even better than the one he stole at her dad’s house.

Tossing his dirty clothes aside, Jackson slid his own hands around Lisa’s slim hips and devoured her lips with his own. She gave a tiny moan as their tongues tangled and the noise shot straight down to his groin.

Rocking his hips gently against hers, he tried to calm himself down a little and not give in to the urge to throw her onto one of the small single beds. Let her take what she needs. This is what she needs right now-

He bit down on her full bottom lip as she slid a small hand across his abdomen.

“Fuck!” He gasped as she pulled away. “Sorry, you- your hand-” He desperately clutched at her t-shirt, trying to convince her to stay close despite him almost taking a chunk out of her lip.

She was staring at him with those wide green eyes again. A bead of blood gathered on her lip, and she touched it with her fingers, inspecting them as she pulled it away.

“You bit me, Jack,” she said, almost blandly, eyes still on her blood stained fingers.

“I know,” he replied, his voice husky from trying to curb the desire throbbing through him. He wanted to do it again.

“That’s the second time you’ve apologised to me while we’ve kissed,” her gaze was back on him again, pupils grown large and dark. “A girl could think you like her or something.”

“Yeah,” he swallowed, unconsciously rocking his hips against hers again, hands still tight on her waist. “I could see how she would come to that conclusion.”

Her eyelids fluttered at his movement and she drew away a little, innocently sucking her finger tips into her mouth. Jackson drew in a sharp breath at that and groaned a little as he forced himself to let her go.

Where was your famous control now, Jack? He clenched his teeth at the thought, then breathed deep through his nose.

She was withdrawing again, both physically and mentally, sitting carefully in one of the uncomfortable chairs framing a small breakfast table. Jackson covered his disappointment by picking up his dumped washing and cramming them into the bottom of his rucksack.

Pulling a clean long sleeved t-shirt over his head, he ran his fingers through his shorter locks. “Your hair looks good,” came a quiet voice from the other side of the room. He looked over his shoulder with what he hoped was his usual smirk.

“Your’s looks good too,” he said. “As evidenced by my actions of the last few minutes.”

His words brought a slight redness to her cheeks. He grinned for real at that.

“Shut up,” she muttered unconvincingly. Tracing her slender fingers across the worn table, she cleared her throat and asked, “Could you do me a favour?”

Curiously, Jackson made his way over to the table and sat down opposite her. Raising his eyebrows, he indicated for her to continue.

“I never ended up getting my- um, my essentials from that drug store.”

He grunted in acknowledgment. “I can see why it may have slipped your mind,” he said lightly. “Did you want to buy some now? I saw a 7/11 on our way into town.”

Paling slightly, she shifted uncomfortably in her chair. “Yeah, I’d like to.”

He nodded. “Sure.”

She stood suddenly, then sat down again. “Um- could you come with me? This time?” She looked like the words were clinging to her teeth.

Not exactly the way he wanted to engender trust between them, but he’ll take what he can get.

“Sure,” he repeated softly. She stood again quickly and snatched up her sneakers, sitting on the edge of the bed to tie the laces. He slowly moved to pull on his own shoes and joined her waiting quietly by the door.

He hated it when she was quiet like this. Like the spirit had been sucked right out of her. He had watched her for eight weeks like this, drifting from work to home to her dad’s to home.

It dawned on him that this was how she dealt with her trauma. Shoving it all down and covering it neatly with a carefully organised life. Lisa’s little bubble of safety. But when something threatened to pop that bubble, she either reacted with singleminded determination, like on that flight, or she collapsed back into herself, like today, or when he had her on the floor at her father’s house, knife at her chest.

He had the brief thought of threatening her dad again, just to see whether he could get the former reaction out of her.

Instead, he kissed her again, pressing her against the closed door, before pulling back with a wide grin. Her mouth was partially open with shock and her eyes still closed. She blinked them open and snapped her teeth together.

“You’re so annoying,” she snapped and pushed past him to get out the door.

He felt like crowing. _There_ she is.

* * *

Lisa felt warm. Lying on her side, facing the dingy window next to her bed, she blinked her eyes open.

She was _really_ warm.

A heavy arm tightened around her middle and she froze, suddenly fully awake. What the hell happened last night and why is Jackson-

She frantically shifted through her memories the night before.

She had kissed him. Again. Fuck. She rationalised it away at the time, blaming the shock of what had happened at that drug store. Lisa shuddered at the memory. But he was in _bed_ with her. Jackson was _spooning_ her, she could feel the soft hairs on his bare legs brush the backs of her knees, and she couldn’t remember when this had happened.

They got back from a second, much less eventful, shopping trip and quietly ate their takeaway Thai, Jackson casting her those looks of his through his indecently long lashes. She refused to meet his eyes, embarrassed about her emotional display that day, and forcing herself to seek some of that stupid, male-driven logic Jackson seemed so keen onaround the time he head butted her on the plane.

They had both climbed into their own beds and Lisa fell into an exhausted sleep a lot sooner than she thought she would-

“I can hear you thinking, Lise.” Jackson’s voice was deep and husky with sleep. He breathed out through his nose in an almost sigh and Lisa felt her newly coloured locks shift. His arm tightened and her heart picked up at the press of his hips against her bum.

There is no way she’s ready to deal with _that_ right now.

“You were having a nightmare,” he continued sleepily. “You calmed down when I touched you. Nothing happened.”

“Why-” she croaked. She licked her lips and tried again. “Why are you in _bed_ with me?”

“Because I want you, Lisa. Can’t you tell?” Jackson pressed into her again and she bit her lip suppressing a moan. It had been so long since she had been with anyone.

Was she really considering sleeping with Jackson Rippner?

He mumbled something into her hair. Eight weeks. What the hell does that mean?

“Jackson,” she whispered desperately. “Jackson, let me go.”

He tensed suddenly, and slowly rolled out of the warm covers. Giving an ironic chuckle, he dropped his head into his hands. He hissed something to himself Lisa couldn’t decipher. Then he launched himself off her bed and locked himself in the bathroom.


	6. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a filler chapter to compliment the last one before we get into the *ahem* hot stuff. Jackson tries to converse like a normal person. It doesn’t go well. 
> 
> Crowded House rocks btw ;)

**Chapter 5**

Jackson hid in the bathroom for what he thought was an appropriate amount of time. Yes, hid. He was man enough to admit it. He was hiding from the petite woman he had essentially kidnapped and framed for terrorist activities.

_Let her breathe_ , he reminded himself again. As he had whispered when removing himself from her bed. From her soft, warm...

Shit. And he had just calmed himself down too.

He took a deep breath, then eased it out slowly, before opening the door. Lisa was dressed and sitting on her already made bed, toying with the remote for the small television mounted above the tiny dining table. She made the bed. Adorable.

Jackson made a beeline for his bag, and pulled out a pair of jeans and some fresh socks. As he pulled on the pants, he heard a small sound from Lisa. Turning, he saw that she had the television on, sound muted. On the screen was the drug store from the day before. She turned up the volume.

_"-FBI did not make a statement but it is believed they are looking for the two individuals who interrupted the violent robbery-"_

Vision from from the night before played. The store was bathed in police lights, drenching the building in red and blue as people were lead out by police. The woman on the bed drew in a sharp breath as she saw the young girl she protected covered in a blanket and being embraced by a man who looked like her father before Jackson turned off the T.V.

They both held still for a second before Jackson cleared his throat. “I have a safe house.”

She turned to him, tired eyes wary. “Where is it?” She asked finally.

“West Virginia.”

“Okay.”

Tightening his jaw at her lacklustre response, he began to pack his bag, shoving clothing in methodically.

He was angry again, Lisa thought. “That,” she pointed at the black screen, “wasn’t my fault, Jackson,” she said through clenched teeth. “I didn’t ask to be involved in-”

“You think I’m angry at you for that?” His voice was calm but his eyes said otherwise.

“You’re not?” Lisa responded, rising from the mattress.

“Not for that. Oh, no. I watched you for eight weeks, Lise. Eight weeks. And I had no idea you’d develop a saviour complex when I sat next to you on that fucking flight. There was _nothing_ to indicate this watching you.”

She stared at him. “Eight weeks?”

“You threw yourself into saving everyone the moment, _moment_ , you knew that someone might die. You know what that makes you? A fucking hero, Lise.” He moved closer, the heat from his body burning her. “This isn’t some movie. Heroes die. You keep pushing people out of the path of the train with no thought that now you’re in their place. And for what? For _who_?”

Lisa felt the heat rise up the back of her neck. “Eight WEEKS?”

He looked incredulous. “That’s what you’re fixated on? For shit’s sake!” He ran a hand roughly through his shortened hair. “You’re going to get yourself killed and all you can think of-”

“Don’t you dare minimise this, Jackson,” she hissed. “You stalked me for _eight weeks_ and then threaten the lives of good people, my _father_ , and you think I’m throwing myself in harm’s way for _fun_? Where do you get off?!”

He wrapped his hand around the back of her neck. “I’m a killer, Lisa, remember?” He whispered, before snaking out his tongue to lick the bite mark he left on her lip the night before. Her heart kicked hard in her chest as his full lips hovered over her own. “But I don’t think you mind, do you?” Jackson said with a mocking grin.

Lisa scowled. “Fuck off, Jack,” she said, pushing him away. He let go, laughing, and the leer refused to leave his face.

“You know I want it too, little Lisa,” he said. “The heroine and the bad guy. What a match!” He barked out a laugh.

She refused to engage. It felt too right but it was just so _wrong_. She and Jackson had no business meeting ever each other. It was just a cruel twist of fate that forced her in his sights. “Bathroom is mine,” she said, snatching up fresh clothes and her makeup bag.

She slammed the door on his stupid, pretty, grinning face.

* * *

Maria Chen was now convinced that Lisa Reisert was a victim in all this mess. The bloody footage of the drug store robbery could only be shown in tiny freeze frames to the public because of the violence of the outcome, but Maria and Gordon had watched all the footage, from Reisert entering, to the moment the second would-be thief died, blood oozing from his mouth and his open belly.

Arriving in the small town the night before, the partners spoke to the shell shocked staff and the police about the incident as the bodies were photographed and taken to a local morgue.

Reisert was buying sanitary items. It seemed like such a pedestrian thing for a fugitive to do. But what really stood out was the woman guarding the young girl like a tiger. It lined up too well with how she portrayed herself in her interviews. Too well with how other people talked about her.

“So, you thinking what I’m thinking?” Maria asked her partner as they walked to their car with their overnight bags.

“Sure am. Burgers for breakfast? What could be better?” Gordon laughed at her eye roll. “Yeah, yeah. Okay, I’m 99 percent convinced that Reisert is as innocent as she claimed to be. But where do we go from here? We still have a non-existent Jackson Rippner who has taken off with her and don’t forget the mysterious Denver and Dallas, whoever the hell they are.”

Maria frowned as she tried to connect the few pieces of information they had to work with. She paused and Gordon stopped to look at her. She rubbed her chin hesitantly. “Gordon, what do you know about the world of professional killers?”

His eyes widened. “Oh, so this is where we’re going, huh?” He shrugged. “To be honest, I’m drawing a blank with all other theories, so I’m willing to give that one a spin.”

* * *

“Of all the bands I thought an assassin would be interested in, Crowded House was not one of them.”

Jackson looked over at the woman in the passenger seat reading the back of a CD cover and huffed out a small chuckle. “Well, I’m here to educate. Australian music of the 80’s is big in the killer-for-hire circles. And we prefer the term manager.”

Lisa dropped the cover to her lap and turned to him, her features turning curious. “So how does one become a ‘manager’? Are you recruited? Do you reply to an ad?” His lips tightened. “So, an off limits topic, then?”

They sat in silence while ‘Four Seasons in One Day’ filtered from the speakers.

“I was recruited. When I was seventeen,” Jackson said before he could think to stop himself.

She hesitated, then asked, “Did you choose your name, or did they?”

“They did.”

“Huh.”

Jackson sighed. “I’m not going to tell you my original name, Lise. That kid is long gone. Dead figuratively and literally.”

“Come on, if he’s really dead, then there’s no reason not to, right?” She gave him a sly glance.

He snorted. “Clever, Lise. Still not telling you.”

She sighed in defeat. “Can’t blame a girl for trying. I mean, you’ve had your tongue in my mouth several times now, I wouldn’t mind knowing what name to whisper in your ear…”

Jackson’s body certainly responded to that. “Don’t you dare be a tease, Lisa. Someone might think you want the same thing as I do.”

“If only if I knew your name.”

He laughed outright at that. Lisa swallowed as he threw his head back. Shit, he was beautiful. How stupidly unfair.

“Come on,” she said, a little hoarsely as she recovered from seeing Jackson properly let loose, “who am I going to tell? I’m a terrorist on the run, remember?”

He chuckled again. “Yeah, okay.” He paused for a moment and the air in the cabin suddenly felt heavy. “How about I make you a deal. You tell me how you got that scar, and I’ll tell you the name I gave up.”

Lisa heart stuttered for a second. “No,” she whispered.

“Why not?” He countered smoothly. His voice had changed a little. His eyes cooled. The Manager was back. “We’ll both find something out about each other.”

She stiffened in her seat. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I’ve had my tongue in your mouth, as you mentioned,” his voice lowered. “You’ve run away with me, Lisa.”

She shook her head jerkily.

“I’m not here to hurt you,” he continued. “It’s still something that weighs heavily on you. Maybe talking-”

“Stop,” she gasped. “Why do you want to know? It’s got nothing to do with you!” She was drowning. How did the conversation turn to this? The car felt as suffocating as the cabin of the Fresh Air flight.

“Because I missed it,” he said softly. “Why was there no police report?”

She didn’t answer. His mouth twitched and there was silence as he slowed down and parked not far from a road-side diner.

“You’re a smart man, Jackson,” she said raggedly. “Surely you can figure out what happened without me having to tell you.”

“I want to hear it from you, Lisa.”

“You mean you want something else to hold over me, isn’t that right, Jack?” She hissed. “Who knows what happened to the police report? Just another sexual assault lost in the system I suppose.” She pulled on the door handle, only to find it locked. “Let me out.”

“No,” he said blandly. The bastard wasn’t even looking at her.

“Jackson, please,” she voice cracked. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

He sighed. “Fine. Tell me one thing though,” his cool eyes pierced hers. “Did they get him?”

Lisa was holding onto the door for dear life. He clicked the lock open and she opened the door and slid out in one movement. Her green eyes finally made contact with his own again. “No, they didn’t.”

She shut the door firmly.

* * *

Officer Jake Dijkstra rushed back into the quiet Police Station with a curse. After dealing with those two FBI agents and their woman-hunting entourage today he completely forgot to finish up sending the reports on the drug store footage to his superiors before leaving for a long weekend with his girlfriend.

Trotting down the dim hallway, he noticed a flickering from the video room, where their limited technology was put through its paces the whole day in order to find that Lisa Reisert. Dammit. Probably forgot to turn that off too. Jake sighed in frustration.

Pushing the door open, he barely had time to register the two men inside, watching the drug store footage, before a knife flashed across his throat. Jake tried to speak as his hand came up to cover his neck, but all he could do was drop to his knees.

As he collapsed to the floor, the last thing he saw was two pairs of men’s dress shoes.


	7. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let the smuttening begin! Jackson’s pillow talk is very- Jackson… :P

**Chapter Six**

“Looks like we’re sharing a bed tonight, Mrs Donaldson,” Jackson said breezily as he brushed past Lisa with his overnight bag over one shoulder and their motel door key in his hand.

“What? No,” she protested. Craning her neck she counted maybe half a dozen cars in the dark carpark. “Surely there’s more rooms available.”

He didn’t even look back as he strode across the gravel. “Apparently there’s some renovations going on.” He shrugged. “So now we’re Mr and Mrs John and Lindy Donaldson from Houston.”

“Did you even _ask_ about a twin room?” Lisa followed at a trot.

He sighed impatiently. “No, because then it would have looked strange, a married couple asking for separate beds. I overheard the desk clerk mentioning over the phone that twin rooms were in short supply so I took a punt.”

“So there might still be a twin room?”

“Get over it, Lise. We’re both grown ups.” He lowered his bag as he approached the door of unit nine. “What are you worried about, that I’ll spoon you to death?”

She scowled at his broad back. “Oh, ha ha, Jackson.”

They entered the dated yet clean room. Lisa’s gaze immediately fell on the queen sized bed along the far wall. Great. Just what she needed to finish off a shit-tastic day. Jackson dumped his bag on the floor and took out the microwave meals he bought from the small supermarket in town.

“I need alcohol,” Lisa muttered. She jumped at a firm clunk from behind her. Jackson had dumped a bottle of red on the kitchenette bench.

“It’s your lucky day, Lise,” he said with a touch of sarcasm.

Oh. Oh, “Thank fuck,” she moaned as she rushed over to pick up the bottle. She barely glanced at the label before opening the doors on the kitchen cabinets to find a wine glass. She didn’t notice that Jackson was staring at her with a mixture of amusement and concern.

“Is my presence so unbearable, little Lisa?”

Ripping off the top and pouring herself a generous slog, Lisa started at him in bewilderment. “Are you kidding me? I have no idea where I stand with you, Jack. No idea. You blow hot then cold.” She paused as she took a big swallow of the shiraz. “One minute you’re laughing, the next, making me relive the worst day of my life.”

His eyes narrowed. “You really need to get over yourself, Lise. You’re not the only one with a traumatic past.”

Lisa went cold, then flushed hot. “Fuck you, Jack. You think I enjoy my PTSD?”

“You know what?” He growled, “I wish you would.”

Pausing mid-swallow she turned back to him. “What?”

“Fuck me, Lisa.”

She felt herself burn with fear and what very much felt like arousal. “No.”

“Why not?” He stepped closer.

Her breath came in short, sharp gasps. “I don’t want to.”

“Liar,” his eyes rested lingeringly on her breasts, hips, legs before catching her eyes again. “You know how much I hate lies, Lisa.”

Lisa set down the now empty glass and pressed her back against the laminate bench as Jackson prowled closer. “Fine,” she breathed, “You’re hot, okay? You’re annoying, infuriating, scary as fuck, but you’re hot.” He stopped barely an inch away. “I’m not going to fuck you.”

“Why not?” He whispered, mouth just grazing hers.

Just one taste, she promised, as she pushed herself up and pressed her lips against his. He sighed and cupped her jaw in his large hands, pushing his lips almost reverently back against hers.

“I’ve got my period.”

Jackson stopped, eyes opening. Seeing her flushed but serious face was all the proof he needed. His mouth widened into a smile and he barked a laugh. He gave her a sly look. “We could still-”

“No!” Lisa was horrified. “Yuck! Really, Jack?!”

“Finish off that bottle and you might be up for anything.”

“Shut up. And no, thank you.” She did take the reprieve to refill her glass and take a long sip. She watched as he grabbed his toiletries bag and gave her another lingering look before disappearing into the bathroom. Idiot, she swore at herself.

She was halfway through the bottle when he came out again, dressed in his jeans and a t-shirt, towelling at his damp hair.

“Happy, Lisa?” He raised an eyebrow.

“I haven’t been with anyone since then, you know.” Her words slurred a little, but her large green eyes were clear. She was sitting on the one bed, leaning against the pillows.

He froze. Was she finally going to talk about it? He swung slowly around to her, hoping that the movement wouldn’t make her retreat.

“It just kills you that you don’t know everything about me, doesn’t it?” She stared down at her glass. She chuckled. “You missed it, and that _kills_ you.”

“I don’t normally miss things,” he conceded reluctantly.

“Okay,” she announced, placing her empty glass down with a thunk on the bedside table. “I’ll tell you.” Her eyes caught his. “But let’s have a little quid pro quo here.”

Curious, he nodded.

“Take off your shirt.”

Not what he was expecting, but he was almost embarrassingly eager to comply. He stood in the middle of the room, wearing just his jeans and a growing erection. Lisa stood and took a few steps towards him, caressing his chest with her gaze.

He was all muscle and long limbs. Not quite what you’d think looking at him clothed, Lisa thought a little fuzzily. There were scars too. She recognised what were knife wounds and inspected the others. Probably bullets. Jackson Rippner has not lead a safe life.

“It was a Tuesday,” she pulled her gaze away from his burning one. “I was on the late shift at work, so I was doing my grocery shopping just before lunch. It was a hot day.” She hesitated, then forged on. “The police said it was an opportunistic crime. Wrong place. Wrong time.” She chuckled wryly. “Next thing I know, I was in this van, my clothes half ripped off and a knife at my throat. He didn’t hit me hard enough because I came to halfway through. But he seemed to enjoy it.” Her voice hitched. “‘ _Stop moving, you little bitch_ ,’” she hissed in an octave not her own, eyes bright with pain.

Jackson stood so still, but inside he was in flames. He burned for her. He burned with _rage_ for her. She’s standing _right there_ , the woman he has lusted after for weeks, and she couldn’t be further away.

“When he was done, he punched me across the face and rolled me out the door like a trash bag.” He could see her start to shake, but she pulled herself together and gave him a brittle smile. “And there you have it. Trauma for life.”

His eagerness had faded with her story, but at a touch of her soft hand against the hard skin of his stomach, his body flared to life again with an involuntary gasp from the assassin. Her hand travelled from his abs to his left nipple, then drifted over to his right one, where a bullet had left a deep furrow in his pectoral several years ago.

“Lisa,” he breathed. She looked up at him, pupils blown wide.

“I have scars too,” she whispered. And she pulled her sweater over her head. As she dropped it on the floor, Jackson took in his fill of her slender figure. Then his wandering eyes stopped. A few inches below the scar he knew about, was another. Disappearing under the left cup of her simple black bra was an even deeper scar. Her stomach was crisscrossed with more, varying in deepness and length.

“Fuck!” He exclaimed. He stepped closer pressed his cool hand against the softness of her belly. “He nearly killed you!”

“Yeah,” she agreed quietly. “He nearly killed me. I used to wish he did.”

Jackson had nothing to say to that. Fuck, she was even more beautiful, standing there, baring all. Broken, but still alive.

Clearing his throat, he said, “Well, for what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re still around.”

She smiled wryly. “Yeah, coming from the man sent to intimidate then kill me-”

“Okay, sure. We haven’t had the best of introductions-”

“Not the best? Understatement of the year!”

“But I can’t help but think of how good we could be together,” he whispered, cupping her face with his hands yet again.

Lisa struggled to find her breath as his full lips came closer. “I don’t think what we have is healthy, Jackson.” The feel of his bare skin against hers was scorching her. “Lust and fear are not good barometers for a relationship.”

“Right now, I just don’t care,” he breathed and finally their lips met. His hands slid down her smooth arms and snaked their way around her back. He gathered her close, and hissed at the feel of her against him. He wanted to bury himself deep inside her.

To never leave.

To never remember the past.

To protect her from… _everything._

“You _burn_ , Jackson,” she gasped. She pressed herself closer. “This is insane. I’m insane-”

He leaned down and pulled her up against him, then sat her on the small breakfast bar behind him. Pushing his hips between her legs, she moaned at the friction, and traced her tongue down his neck to his collarbone.

“Ah, fuck!” He gasped, throwing his head back. Then he felt her hand brush the button on his jeans. He grasped her fingers. “You don’t have to-”

Her cheeks were flushed with arousal and she looked up at him determinedly. “Please, Jackson. I- I just need to- try. Please.”

Worry was creeping into the fog of need that was filling him. But Jackson’s ruthless mind was turning to mush under Lisa’s hands, so he let go.

She unfastened the button and slowly slid down the zipper. So slowly Jackson thought he might burst. As she reached inside his underwear, he realised he was holding his breath, and let it out haltingly. As she curled her hand around his cock, he thought that maybe this was what heaven felt like. He gathered her close, his nose buried in her hair and thrust himself into her hands with a pained groan.

Jackson cock was hot, hard and thick in her fingers. Lisa’s forehead was pressed against his neck as she finally looked down at what she was doing. His stomach muscles were so tense she could see every bit of definition, and he was huffing hot breaths into her ear. She pumped her hands and he pulled her even closer. It was suffocating and she should be terrified. But everything she felt about this man was not normal. She had wanted him the moment she laid eyes on him in the airline queue barely a week ago.

She gripped him firmly and took up a steady rhythm. She could feel herself grow wet, despite everything else that was happening down in her lady parts. Jackson was falling apart in her hands and she felt powerful yet again.

“Lise, ah! Lise, I’m-” he gasped as his cock throbbed and spilled into her hands and onto her bare stomach. “Fuck! I’m sorry-”

She laughed breathlessly. “Honestly Jackson, you’ve got to stop apologising. You’ll start to give away that you like me.”

“Oh, I like,” he said huskily as he took her lips with his, tongue caressing her own. “I stole you, remember?” His pale blue eyes were warmer than she’d ever seen them. “Thank you,” he said with a smile that was part satisfaction, part shyness.

Gently pushing her hair aside, lightly kissed her ear then whispered, “I’m going to find him and tear him apart in front of you.”

Her eyes widened and she felt something like fear trickle down her spine. Yet in the pit of her stomach, a spark of vengeance rekindled for the first time in close to a year. She pulled her head back and stared into his eyes again with a touch of shock. Her breath stuttered. She was making a deal with the devil, wasn’t she? His intense gaze dropped and he possessively rubbed his cum across the scars on her belly, covering them. Suddenly she didn’t care about what was right or what was wrong. This man has promised her her darkest fantasies.

And Jackson doesn’t lie.

Feeling reckless, she whispered back, “Promise?”

“Promise.” The word reverberated deep inside both of them. Like a vow.

Oh fuck. Lisa’s insides clenched.

How far she had fallen.


	8. Chapter Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: I never thought I’d have to give a warning for blood play in a fic. But holy shit blood play *horror*   
> Okay, I don't think it's that bad, and if you've made it this far, you hopefully won't mind lol!
> 
> But please don’t tell my Mum.

**Chapter Seven**

Lisa blinked her eyes open to a sight she was surprised to see.

Jackson lay in the semi-darkness, long lashes fanned out over his high cheekbones, as he continued to sleep. His face looked so young and almost blank, like the life he exuded in his features was so powerful during his waking hours, that they needed a break while he rested.

He lay on his side, facing Lisa, long arm reaching towards her and almost clutching her pillow. His long legs were stretched out so they tangled with her own warm feet. She didn’t want to think of the fact that her own hand was tucked under his outstretched arm, brushing the smooth skin of his forearm.

Shuffling backwards off the bed, she tried to move as little as possible to avoid waking him, but couldn’t quite make it. Jackson’s eyes moved from sleepy to sharp so quick, Lisawasn’t even sure they transitioned at all.

“I’m just going to the bathroom,” she whispered, wondering why she felt she needed to explain herself.

“Sure,” he replied, sitting up. His scrutiny didn’t drop until she shut the bathroom door.

She let out a breath. What the hell had she been thinking? What the hell does she do now? She had washed his cum off her stomach last night with a shower, but she still felt it. Lisa _smelled_ like him now. She knows how possessive, how _relentless_ he is.

She stared at herself in the mirror and swallowed nervously. She was playing with fire, but she’s starting to crave the warmth.

Best to keep it cool. She can’t let him see that he’s getting to her. That his presence is infectious.

Jackson knew exactly what she was doing in the bathroom. Lisa was now convincing herself that last night meant nothing and she’ll come out, back straight to the point of stiffness, with her polite smile plastered to her face to keep him an arm’s length away.

He could feel himself grow bitter and the feeling erupted when she opened the door _exactly_ how he predicted she would. He couldn’t take it. He wanted _her_ , dammit. Not this shell she retreated behind.

“So, have you rationalised away last night yet?”

She hesitated on the way to the kitchenette and half turned towards him. “What?” She even had the gall to keep that damn smile on her face.

“‘What?’” He mocked. “We had quite the intimate moment last night, Lise. Do you remember, or were you really that drunk?”

“I remember,” she replied softly. “I don’t see how this changes-”

“It changes _everything_ ,” he growled. “Whatever you’re thinking, believing that one day you’ll get back to your normal life, dinner at dad’s, working overtime and your fucking Sea Breezes - it’s over.” He stalked closer. “Over, Lisa Reisert. You belong with me now.”

Her wide green eyes sparked. “Gee, Jack. I didn’t realise a hand job would mean so much to you. And fuck you, I belong to myself.” She spat.

“You don’t. You’re still trapped in that van, a knife at your throat.”

The colour drained from her cheeks. “And here I was just thinking that you weren’t so bad. I don’t belong with you. There is _nothing_ that appeals to me about you.”

“Bullshit,” he mocked. He lowered his voice and leaned closer, touching a finger to her chin. She slapped it away. “I can’t wait to finally fuck you and prove how right we are together. Maybe then you’ll give up those pathetic illusions of control.”

"Pathetic?" Lisa laughed without humour, almost sounding like a sob. She angrily dashed the tears from her eyes that had gathered without her permission. "Oh, sure. _I’m_ pathetic."

Jackson held himself tensely, watching her every move, wound tight like a spring.

She took a few steps forward right into his space, glared up at him and hissed, "But you’re obsessed with me."

Jackson growled deep in the back of his throat as she brushed against him. Shit. She was right. His arm twitched as he went to reach for her, to pull her, hissing and spitting, closer to him. But she stepped back.

“You’re obsessed with me," she repeated, her eyes still burning with anger and her cheeks flushed. "How many weeks did you watch me, Jackson?" He said nothing. "Eight, was it? That's quite some time." She prowled around him, assessing him. "You wanted me, but you couldn't touch me. How long into your surveillance did it take before you before you touched yourself, Jackson?"

“Don’t,” he ground out, stumped at how she managed to turn the tables on him.

"How long?" She whispered behind him, on tiptoes to reach his ear. He could feel her warm breath on his skin and he visibly shuddered.

"Lisa," he warned, voice laced with anger and arousal. Fuck, at least that polite smile had disappeared.

"Because you did, didn't you?" She continued, her voice low. "You call me pathetic, Jackson, but I call your bluff."

Jackson snapped. Finally giving into the urge to touch her, he grabbed the closet limb available - her right bicep - and pushed her none-too-gently into the wall by the bed. She inhaled sharply at his touch and pushed his hands away. Jackson was having none of that. He slammed both hands into the wall, bracketing Lisa's shoulders.

She barely flinched, almost daring him to do worse with those green eyes of hers.

Good girl, his traitorous mind purred.

"Well, little Lisa, you've found me out," he sing-songed in a voice heavy with sarcasm. "Discovered my deep, dark secret." He leaned close, trailing his nose up the curve of her neck. "My pathetic little fantasies about the hotel manager I was set to tail." He gave the soft skin a kiss, just a small press of the lips, and he burned with arousal at the tiny hitch of breath he felt beneath his lips. “Fifteen days," he whispered into the pink shell of her ear.

"What?" She asked, slightly dazed eyes meeting his.

"Before I came with your name on my lips."

"Oh, fuck," she whimpered. He found himself jerked forward, and her lips crashed onto his. He braced his hands more securely on the wall to keep from crushing the smaller woman. He groaned as she opened her mouth to his and he felt her tongue snake out to touch his own. She tasted like peaches and sunshine.

She wrapped her slender arms around his neck and he slid his hands under her t-shirt, brushing his fingers across her scars. At her sharp intake of breath, he paused. “I want to see,” he asked breathlessly. In answer, she wordlessly lifted her arms and he pulled her plain white shirt over her head. Craving the touch of her skin against his, he quickly shucked his own shirt off. He bent and lifted her legs to wrap around him. He’d been aching to have her thighs squeeze him from the moment he first saw them, and she didn’t disappoint, pressing herself tight. Jackson rocked his hips against hers, his cock hard and insistent against the zipper of his jeans.

“Let me touch you, Lisa,” he rasped.

Looking down at her heavy eyes and swollen lips, she panted as she registered what he said. “I’m still bleeding,” she protested, regret lacing the words.

“I don’t care,” he kissed her hard. “Please, let me touch you.”

She assessed him, then nodded jerkily. “Okay.”

Her graceful legs were encased in stretchy black leggings, which served Jackson’s purpose well. Not giving her a chance to change her mind, his hand dived down under the top waistband and into her underwear before she could gasp.

“Oh, shit!” Lisa swore as his long fingers brushed her lower lips. Trembling, she clutched onto his shoulders for dear life as he added pressure to his movement, his hand pressed between her sanitary pad and her centre.

“Fuck, you’re wet. That’s not all blood, is it?” He pinned her with a wild, blue eyed stare.

She shook her head quickly. “Not all blood,” she whined as the pad of his fingers brushed over her clit. “Ja- Jackson, please!”

“Ah, my little Lisa,” he breathed, the movement of his fingers not stopping. “So beautiful. Never hide from me, Lisa-” He pushed a finger into her canal and curled it, thumb sliding slickly over the bundle of nerves above it.

She began to moan and threw her head back, clenching her eyes shut as she tightened on his finger below. “No,” Jackson growled. “Look at me. _See me_ , Lisa.” Surprised, she opened her eyes again and was met with an unravelling assassin between her legs.

Her gasps came sharper. “I see you,” she said, and brought his face to hers again in a searing kiss. She began to fall apart beneath his skilful fingers and keened into his mouth as her body took over, shuddering against a hard body and the hard wall. As she came down from the high, Jackson studied her every reaction, analysing her intently for any regret or discomfort.

He pulled his hand out of her undies and took in his fingers, pinkened from blood and arousal, before sucking his fingers into his mouth. Lisa choked as watched, halfway between fascinated and disgusted. They were both breathing hard, colour high on their cheekbones.

Lisa began to push herself away from the wall. Jackson’s jaw hardened. _Don’t close yourself off, Lise. Don’t you dare._

She looked away, covering the scars on her stomach with her arms. He immediately stepped forward and uncrossed them. She looked up, confused. “No. Don’t cover them. _Own_ them.”

Her green eyes snapped angrily. “They are not me. They were forced on me.”

“They’re yours now,” he said, and held her gaze as she tried to break eye contact. “Your battle. They make you who you are, Lise.”

“And who is that, Jackson?” She said, frustrated.

“The woman who fought for the life of some senator’s kids. Who defended her father from a killer. Who stood in the line of fire to save a girl whose name she didn’t even know-”

Lisa stood speechless, her mouth slightly open, as if in protest.

“Who made a professional-” he breathed her in, “-question himself for the first time.”

“You know all this about me,” she said softly. “Yet I still know nothing about you.” She leaned over to grab her t-shirt off the floor.

Jackson stood stock still for a moment, studying her, then took a few steps to the bathroom. Then stopped and turned back to her.

“My name was Daniel.”

* * *

Gordon was out buying coffees for the both of them while Maria had a map spread over the bonnet of their FBI issue sedan. The morning was slightly chilly in the breeze, where a pale sun fought to break through the cloud cover.

Maria couldn’t help the feeling of impending doom that was building inside. More FBI backup was on its way, following their trail, as the news of yet another murder, this time _inside_ the police station they left behind after the drug store slaughter proved that Gordon and Chen weren’t the only ones on Reisert’s tail.

Her partner arrived and handed her a hot latte. “Okay,” she said with a nod of appreciation for the caffeination, “I’m thinking of continuing to head north, into these remote areas of West Virginia. That’s where I’d head to lay low. With any luck, we’ll run straight into them.”

Gordon made an approving sound as he sipped his long black. “Hopefully the APB out on them will pick something up before they disappear into the wilds.” He took another sip and shivered a little. “Let’s hope we get to them first too.”

“Yup,” Maria sighed with resignation. She began to fold up the map. “Well, we better get back on the road-”

“Oh, shit.”

She turned to her partner with surprise. He was staring at an SUV turning near the car park they had stopped in. She followed his gaze.

“Oh, shit!”

Throwing themselves into their car, Maria fished out the keys and shoved the key into the ignition.

“Let’s go let’s go let’s go!” Gordon chanted.

“Going!” She barked.

Lisa Reisert and Jackson Rippner just _bloody_ drove past them in a maroon SUV. And from her reaction, Reisert recognised them too.


	9. Chapter Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter! Just an epilogue to follow after this (which I'm still writing lol!). 
> 
> Enjoy! You guys are awesome!! *mwah*

**Chapter Eight**

Lisa’s heart was beating so hard she was sure it was visible through her sweater.

“Keep going, Lise,” Jackson panted next to her, helping her over the rocky ground, through the thick shrubs. “We have to find a place to hide.”

After she locked eyes with the two agents in the town they were driving through to fill the car with gas, Jackson took off at a cracking pace, quickly driving into the country backroads and pulling the SUV into some thick shrubs. They then got out and hoofed it on foot after he said that the agents still might find their vehicle.

“Lisa Reisert!”

Special Agent Chen’s voice echoed through the trees.

“Shit,” Lisa gasped. “They’ve found us already?!”

“It’s okay, it’s okay-” The click of a handgun drew them short. Jackson swiftly pulled out the former thief’s handgun from the waistband of his jeans.

“Lisa Reisert and Jackson Rippner, hold it right there!” Agent Gordon must have been a cross country star before joining the FBI. He was braced with both hands on his gun, barely a hair out of place. Jackson levelled his own weapon back, taking Lisa’s upper arm with his other hand and gently guiding her closer to him.

Special Agent Chen wasn’t far behind, gun also trained on them. “Lisa, please don’t run.”

Lisa choked a little on the incredulous laugh that got caught in her throat, hands raised as she looked from one agent to the other. How the hell had her life come to this?

“Lisa,” Maria said again, “We believe you. We know you didn’t organise the attack on the Luxe. Come with us, you don’t have to run.”

She could feel Jackson tense up behind her and pull her a little closer.

“I don’t believe you,” she replied uncertainly.

“We see who’s behind you, Lisa,” Maria said. “We now have proof that the man who told you to make the call is real! This is Jackson Rippner, right?”

Despite knowing his real name, Lisa hesitated and glanced back at the man she knew as Jackson. His ice blue eyes had turned cold as he glared wordlessly at Agent Chen and she shivered at the memory of him turning those eyes on her on the flight.

“If you go with him, you won’t ever see your Dad again,” Maria was starting to sound frantic. “He’s desperate to know that you’re okay. He wants you to come home, Lisa.”

“Don’t,” Jackson whispered through his teeth, “Don’t believe her. They’ll say anything-”

A shot cracked through the still air, and another quickly followed. All four fell to the ground for cover.

A muffled gasp of pain came from Lisa’s left, where Agent Gordon had hit the ground.

“What?” She wheezed as Jackson’s heavy body pinned her down. “Who-”

“Fuck!” Jackson’s eyes were wild. “Don’t move! They’ve found us.”

“Who? Who found us?” Lisa was confused. The FBI were here already. Who was shooting at them? Was it police backup? Another groan came from Gordon. Why were they shooting at their own?

Jackson looked grim. “My colleagues,” he said simply.

“Colleagues?!” Lisa was so lost.

“I told you we’d have to lie low for a while, but it wasn’t just because the Feds were on our tail,” he said, voice low. “I may have- gone rogue? My employers don’t exactly accept resignations.”

She was furious and terrified at the same time. More Jacksons were after them? “And you were going to tell me this when?” She hissed.

“Hopefully never,” he shrugged while peering over the rise they were hiding behind.

“Screw you, Jackson.”

“Anytime, Little Lisa.” He replied, reaching behind his jacket and pulling out his KA-BAR, still in its holster. “Take it.”

* * *

Maria took shelter behind a huge tree after the first two shots were fired. The second shot had whizzed past her face into the tree, sending sharp splinters flying. She suspected she had a cut across her temple, but didn’t have time to see to her own first aid. Manoeuvring herself around the trunk, she tried to locate her partner, but couldn’t find him. They were too far away from each other to call out without giving away where their locations to the new gunman.

Hoping that she could stop whoever it was, and hoping like hell it wasn’t the two that were following Reisert from Miami, but some misguided local, she yelled, “FBI, identify yourself!”

She heard leaves being crunched under the feet of two individuals. Her heart sunk. No such luck, it seems. “Federal Agents, identify yourselves!” She moved to peer at the two men, but received another shot fired into the trunk by her head for her troubles.

“Dammit,” she grunted, looking over in Gordon’s direction again. Getting on her phone, she sent a quick emergency message for backup. She saw a flash of movement. Was that Reisert’s new red hairstyle? What was she doing?

* * *

The third time she heard the groan of pain, Lisa couldn’t ignore it anymore. After carefully pushing the knife holster into the front of her jeans, under her top, she turned to Jackson. “The agent has been hurt,” she said, indicating Agent Gordon’s direction with a toss of her head.

“So?” Jackson’s answer was dismissive.

“We should help him.”

He turned his blue eyes on her. “No,” he said firmly. “Don’t even think about it, Lisa.”

“ _Jackson!_ ”

Lisa jerked in surprise at the deep command. Jackson hardened his jaw and gripped his gun tighter.

“Come on out, Jackson! Time to stop running!”

Not moving, Jackson took a deep breath. “That you, Dallas?” He called back in tone much more confident than what Lisa would have been able to produce at the time. “Denver with you too?”

“He’s just taking care of the Feds,” came the reply. “You’ve been a naughty boy, Jackson. We were worried.”

“I’m sure you were,” he said with sarcasm.

Lisa’s gut dropped as she realised that whoever these men were, they were planning on killing the two agents. No matter what they had accused her of, Agents Chen and Gordon had both treated her with respect. They didn’t deserve to die.

Chen was out of sight, but she knew that Gordon was not too far away. And he was hurt.

Jackson knew what this meant. Dallas and Denver were there to clean up his mess. Before, he only ever scoffed at the stories of the managers who decide that they had enough and tried to fall off the edge of the earth, only to be dragged back and put down like sick dogs, Jackson arrogantly believed that his male-driven logic and brilliantly trained mind would save him from ever falling from grace.

What a laugh.

He should be furious at the woman who put doubt into his mind, but instead he was just annoyed at himself for not planning for this inevitable day.

There was nothing he could offer that would tempt the two assassins to letting himself and Lisa go. Denver was a cold bastard, but the younger Dallas was a barely restrained sociopath. He’d want to see Jackson _bleed_.

“We just need to bring you in, Jackson, to have a chat,” Dallas called out, the frighteningly jovial tone still playing in his voice. “We’ll even let you keep the girl.”

He grit his teeth. _Lies_. “I’m not stupid, Dallas, I know what you’re here for.”

There was a pregnant pause. “Then you know how this is going to end,” Dallas sighed regretfully. “Might as well get it over with.”

Jackson turned to Lisa, maybe he could keep Dallas and Denver occupied while she takes off. He was not willing to give them both up. He did not want to see her-

Fuck.

_FUCK_.

She couldn’t turn her hero complex off for just a few minutes, could she?!

Lisa had crawled away from him and was approaching Agent Gordon, because she couldn’t _fucking_ think of herself for once.

“Reisert? What the hell?” Agent Gordon gasped as the young woman commando crawled towards him. The pain was incredible, but he was sure he wasn’t hallucinating just yet.

“Did they get you?” She whispered, scanning him and stopping at his left shoulder with a shaky grimace. “Oh, yeah, they did.”

“You’ve got to hide!” Gordon hissed as he pressed a hand against the bleeding wound. He was pretty sure his collarbone was shattered. The bullet went clean through him. They must have been aiming for his heart and he got lucky. “These guys are dangerous.”

“If they’re anything like Jackson, yeah they are, but I can’t leave you here alone” she said, peeling off her black sweater. “Here, at least use this for the bleeding.” She shuffled a little closer and handed him the sweater.

“Hi.”

They both froze.

A tall, dark haired man about Jackson’s age was standing over them, a wicked looking knife in one hand. Dallas. Must be. Gordon rolled over and raised his handgun, firing once, but going wide. With a kick to his hand, the agent’s gun was swatted away. The knife flashed in the man’s hand, and Lisa’s breath caught. Scrambling onto all fours, she ran wildly at him, hoping at least to knock him off balance.

She heard the agent swear as she hit the tall man’s legs with all her body weight behind her. He staggered and fell to a knee, with a slight look of surprise, before slashing his weapon down into Lisa’s thigh.

She screamed as the blade sank into her flesh, and barely registered the Jackson-sized blur that threw her out of reach of Dallas. The two managers tumbled over each other, flinging dirt and leaves up into the air as both the men tried to wrestle each other into submission.

Jackson’s head rang as Dallas caught him across the cheekbone with a punch, but he refused to loosen the grip he had on the bigger man’s shirt collar. Dallas was half a foot taller than the other man, and broader too. To let him really wind up would be a huge mistake, as Jackson knew he wouldn’t be able to take him down. He needed to end this quickly.

Driving a knee into Dallas’ stomach, he used the slight reprieve to pull the handgun out of his waistband. But the taller man saw the move and twisted himself around, grabbing Jackson’s gun hand, and throwing a sharp elbow into his face, stunning him.

Lisa was torn between watching the savage fight between the two managers and the huge KA-BAR sticking out of her leg. She gasped when a hand landed on her thigh. She looked up at a pale but determined Agent Gordon. “Let me help,” he said gently.

Her head jerking into a pained nod, she leaned back and let the agent look at the wound. “We should be okay to remove it,” he said, inspecting the wound as he gingerly held Lisa’s sweater on his shoulder. “No major arteries in this part of the leg.”

“Right,” she replied, and before she could think too hard about it, grasped the handle and pulled the blade out with a cry.

“What the hell, Reisert!” Gordon gasped half in shock and half in admiration.

Panting as if she had just finished a marathon, Lisa pressed the heel of her hand to her wound and asked, “Now what?”

“Now you get the fuck out of here,” Gordon ordered. “While those two are distracted-” he indicated the two managers beating the crap out of each other, “-you run and hide. We’ll come find you when it’s safe.”

She stared at him for a second. Then snorted. “Get lost.”

He blinked at her. “What?” Not the words he was expecting.

“I mean, what can I do to help?” With that she handed him the bloodied knife and with a grimace, crawled over to where his gun was and collected it.

This woman is nuts, Gordon thought. He wanted to go and hide himself and she wanted to _help_? Before he could respond, two shots from what sounded like a handgun cracked through the air. And explosion of semi-automatic fire responded. Shit, he needed to backup Chen.

Eyes wide at the sound, Lisa quickly slid his gun towards him. Picking up and checking the weapon, Gordon turned to where the shots came from and pulled himself up onto his knees.

Grasping the knife clipped onto her waistband as she crouched, Lisa looked around to check where Jackson was. She barely registered the manager on the ground before the tall Dallas stalked up, pulled her to her feet by her collar and punched her square in the stomach.

Winded, she dropped again, gasping for air. But Dallas hauled her up by an arm and wrapped a forearm around her neck, pulling her back against his front.

“Come on, Jackson!” He taunted. “That’s it? We expected that you’d have a little more fight in you for this one.” He tightened his hold on Lisa and buried his nose in her hair, taking a long inhale. She shuddered. “She’s quite pretty.”

Jackson staggered to his feet and spat bloody saliva onto the ground. Spotting his handgun, he swiped it off the ground, pointing it at Dallas.

“Uh, uh, ahh, Jackson,” the tall manager tutted. Jackson gritted his teeth as he saw a smaller knife appear at Lisa’s side. But the Lisa he knew still had her head and he almost smiled as she inched his KA-BAR out of its holster.

“You’re right,” Jackson said in a pleading tone, hoping to distract the other man. “Look,” he held up his hands, disengaging the gun. “Please, just- just don’t hurt her. You know she’s innocent in all this.”

Dallas threw him an incredulous look. “You think that matters at this point?” He pushed the blade harder into her side and she grunted in pain. “You’ve been fucking her for the best part of a week and n-” He broke off with a howl as Lisa plunged Jackson’s knife into his upper thigh.

“Ugh, you-” Dallas spat as his own blade cut into Lisa. She gasped and instinctively collapsed in on herself, jerking Jackson’s KA-BAR from his leg.

Dallas made an ugly sound as he crashed to the ground, blood soaking the inside of his thigh, then pouring down his pant leg and spilling onto the dirt beneath him. “Fuck! You stupid-” Disregarding his obviously severe injury, Dallas lunged for Lisa once more, thoughts of capture clearly now turning to murder.

Two shots rang out, and Dallas went down, one bullet lodged in his heart, the other, his head.

Gordon’s gaze snapped to Rippner, their guns still both raised at the spot Dallas previously occupied. Staring into the man’s cold blue eyes, his teeth bared as he caught his breath, the FBI agent was struck with the sudden fear that Rippner would turn his firearm on _him_ next _._

And he probably would have, if not for Reisert.

The wounded woman caught Rippner’s attention and his wild demeanour seemed to soften, as he crouched down to see to her.

Shit. Well, that’s going to cause some issues, Gordon thought to himself, but helping his partner was now firmly in mind. Using the adrenaline still working through his body to his advantage, he scrambled to his feet using his good arm and staggered his way over to where he last saw Chen. Just to see her being knocked to the ground by an unarmed Denver, his high powered rifle lying several feet away.

“Hey!” Gordon yelled, pulling the man’s attention away from his partner. Firing a shot, he clipped the man’s arm, and he cursed himself for his poor aim. But that was all the distraction Chen needed. She rolled over, picked up the rifle and smacked Denver across the face with it.

The killer for hire went down like a sack of potatoes.

“Gordon!” She panted in relief. “Fuck! I was so worried!”

“Mere flesh wound,” he joked with a wince. Chen gave him a quick once over before turning back to Denver.

“Let’s get him restrained,” she said, “then you fixed up.” She threw a glance over her shoulder where Reisert and Rippner were. “Report?”

“Dallas down, Reisert injured and Rippner an absolute wild card.”

“Great,” Chen muttered, pulling out a pair of handcuffs.

* * *

Jackson was tight-lipped as he methodically assessed Lisa’s injuries. All she could smell was the hot, coppery scent of blood. She shook slightly as she struggled to keep it together.

“Be careful,” he said softly. “You might begin to bleed harder. Let me-” He gently pulled up her t-shirt and couldn’t hide the wince as he saw that Lisa had yet another scar to add to her collection.

“Is he dead?” She asked hoarsely.

Jackson glanced at her and nodded.

“Should we go now?”

Jackson looked surprised. “Go?”

“We should go, while C-Chen and Gordon are gone,” she said with chattering teeth, somewhat hesitant at his apparent bewilderment.

Jackson blinked. Then a sly smile crept across his battered and bloody face, all traces of uncertainty covered. “Lisa Reisert, you still want to run away with me?”

Despite the pain she was in and the memories she was fighting to repress, Lisa felt an exasperated annoyance grow. “Oh my gosh. You are so _annoying_.”

Jackson chuckled and pulled her arm over his shoulders. “No, you think I’m hot-”

“Shut up.”

“Fine,” he huffed with a grin. “Let’s get out of here, Lise.”

She gasped with pain as she climbed to her feet, but managed to respond, “Let’s go, Daniel.”

* * *

Maria was starting to feel light-headed as she and Gordon began the walk back to find Rippner and Reisert. She looked down and pressed her hand to her side. It came away bloody. Shit. Looks like Denver got her after all.

Gordon was looking a little pale himself and starting to sway on his feet. “Where’s our backup?” He asked faintly.

“No clue,” Maria growled a little. “Our SWAT team should have scrambled, they weren’t too far away.” She fell to a knee.

“Chen!” Gordon gasped. “Dammit! You’re injured too.”

She blinked to clear the flashing lights from in front of her eyes. “I don’t think we can take on Rippner by ourselves, Gordon.”

He crouched down next to her, clutching his own injured arm. “Agreed. And I don’t want to think of how he’ll react if we try to take Reisert from him.”

“Good,” she groaned, finally sitting. “We’ll wait for backup and regroup in Nashville.”

Glancing over to where Denver was restrained, her eyes widened. “Shit.”

“What? Oh, shit!”

Denver was gone.


	10. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this is it! Thank you so much for reading!

**Epilogue**

The blonde woman’s brown eyes caught on a discarded newspaper on a plastic seat outside her runway gate. Picking it up, she scanned a few headlines until she found what she was looking for, on page three.

**_Father’s Plea to Former Luxe Hotel Suspect_ **

_Joseph Reisert, 57, has made an emotional plea to his missing daughter, Lisa Reisert, who has been cleared of all charges related to the attempted assassination of Senator Keefe in Miami six weeks ago._

_“Please come home, Lisa. You don’t need to hide, you don’t need to protect me.”_

_Reisert remains under FBI guard as investigations continue into who the real masterminds behind the plot…_

Good, Lisa smiled as she read. He got my message. Another headline caught her attention.

**_Serial Rapist Suspect Found Dead_ **

_The remains of Jeffery Mainland, 41, were found by police in parklands late last night. Mainland was out on bail after being charged with aggravated robbery and was the main suspect in a string of violent sexual assaults on women across Florida…_

Lisa’s smile widened. Folding up the paper, she looked up as a young man in a nice suit eased himself into the hard chair next to her.

“Next time,” he complained as he shifted uncomfortably “We’re going business class.” He turned his intense brown eyes on her with a wink behind glasses.

“Too soft,” Lisa teased.

“Not what you said last night.”

“I don’t recall saying anything of that nature,” Lisa responded in a haughty tone.

Jackson leaned closer to her ear, and she shivered as she felt his hot breath on her skin, “I’d be happy to give you a reminder.”

Any ideas Lisa had about teasing him back were interrupted by the announcement of their flight boarding. Jackson looked at her carefully, suddenly serious. After a slight hesitation, he opened his hand, palm up.

Lisa looked back at him and with no hesitation, placed her small hand in his.

She had made her choice.


End file.
